Page 11 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
“I know, I know. You’re not interested in being fixed up. But it’s been years since Steve died, Faith. You haven’t had a real date since, just those charity function things where you spend the whole night avoiding the guy.”
Faith sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I appreciate your concern for my love life, but I’m fine. Really.”
“Fine isn’t the same as happy,” Lucy said, her voice softening. “And I just want you to be happy.”
Faith’s smile faltered slightly. Lucy meant well, and she had been a rock during Faith’s darkest days. The least Faith could do was listen to her matchmaking attempts without snapping. “I know you do. But right now, I’m focused on my house and my career. Dating just isn’t a priority.”
“And it has nothing to do with the mysterious caller who just professed his love over national radio?” Lucy raised an eyebrow, her expression knowing.
Faith felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Lucy’s smirk said she didn’t believe that for a second. “Well, when you’re ready to talk about Mr. Mysterious, I’ll be here with a bottle of wine and all the time in the world.”
“I’m going to go ahead and take off,” Faith said, desperate to change the subject. “There are going to be construction workers swarming my house at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”
“Oh, good. Everything worked out with the number you called.”
“It worked out well,” Faith said neutrally. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for giving me that card. Murphy-Madsen Construction seems very professional.”
Lucy watched her friend head off to the elevators, noting the slight tension in her shoulders. Something was definitely up with Faith tonight, but she knew better than to push. Three years of friendship had taught her that Faith’s walls only came down when she was ready—and not a moment sooner.
In the elevator, Faith leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, annoyed at her own reaction to Jake’s call. She wasn’t some starry-eyed teenager to be swayed by smooth talk and charming dimples. Love at first sight? Please. She knew better than most how quickly attraction could fade to indifference, how easily promises could be broken.
She pressed her cool palms against her flushed cheeks. This unwelcome physical response to Jake Murphy was just that—physical. Nothing more. It had been a long time since a man had shown interest in her, that’s all. Any woman would be flattered.
As the elevator descended to the parking garage, Faith reminded herself of all the reasons romance was not on her agenda—her career, her house restoration, her hard-won independence. The last thing she needed was a handsome contractor complicating her life with meaningless flirtation, no matter how her body might disagree.
She had a house to fix. That was the only relationship she was interested in developing right now.
CHAPTERFIVE
The cool Septembermorning rang crisp and clear as the sunlight peeked over the horizon. Faith hugged her arms around herself, shivering despite her layers as she stood impatiently over the camping stove she’d set up on the kitchen floor. The water for her coffee seemed determined to defy the laws of physics, refusing to reach a boil.
Dawn had barely begun to blush across the sky when Faith had awakened, feeling both excited and anxious about the day ahead. She’d showered and dressed in practical layers: jeans, a cream turtleneck, and a red flannel shirt that had seen better days but remained her favorite. Despite the bundled warmth, goose bumps still prickled along her skin, though she suspected not all of them were from the cold.
Workers began arriving at a steady pace by six o’clock, their trucks rumbling up the driveway like a convoy. But the one person she was looking for remained conspicuously absent. Perhaps he’d reconsidered, decided that pursuit wasn’t worth the effort. Maybe he’d retreated to the safety of bachelorhood, having second thoughts about his radio declaration.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered, stamping her feet against the chill as she watched the pot with increasing frustration. The saying about watched pots never boiling had never felt more accurate.
“You look pretty desperate for caffeine.”
Faith spun toward the doorway, nearly losing her balance on the uneven floorboards. The sight of Jake Murphy leaning against the doorframe sent a rush of warmth through her body that had nothing to do with the rising sun. He was dressed in worn jeans and a flannel shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, a tool belt slung low on his hips. But what captured her attention was the cardboard tray in his hands, holding two steaming cups bearing the logo of her favorite coffee shop.
“Is that for me?” she asked, pointing to the cup with her name scrawled across it in black marker.
“Yeah, I meant to use it as a bribe, but you kind of have a crazy look in your eyes, so I think I might just set it down slowly and run for the door. I’ve seen that same look in my Gran’s eyes before, and it usually ends with me having to bail her out of jail.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up in that devastating half smile that made her pulse skip.
“Hand it over, and I’ll do whatever it is you’d planned to bribe me with. I’m desperate.” The words slipped out before she could censor them, and Faith immediately wished she could take them back. The gleam in Jake’s eyes told her he’d caught every implication.
“I have to ask you something important first,” he said, taking a step closer, the coffee still tantalizingly out of reach.
“What?”
“Are you an obsessive-compulsive pantry organizer, and if not, do you have an aversion to settling down in a serious relationship?”
Heat flooded Faith’s cheeks as she recognized her own words from last night’s radio show. “Oh, man, I really need that coffee.”
